


Small Victories, and Other Indulgences Your Boyfriend Allows You

by Esurisne



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22041940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esurisne/pseuds/Esurisne
Summary: Taichi peeked through his fingers, and the fantastic reality of it was that Omi appeared as if he…really, really didn’t want to go.Well, it seemed only right that as a good boyfriend, it fell to Taichi to help convince him to follow his heart. Or whatever.“You’ve got a little bit of time, right?” Taichi said, sitting up halfway again. He looked at Omi with his widest, most hopeful gaze, the one he knew melted even the most resilient of souls, even the kind souls of responsible, hot, super cool guys like Omi. With nice hands. And talented fingers. And really, really soft lips.
Relationships: Fushimi Omi/Nanao Taichi
Comments: 18
Kudos: 220





	Small Victories, and Other Indulgences Your Boyfriend Allows You

_Victorious_. Victorious was a good word to describe the soaring high Taichi felt while getting to kiss Omi like this, in their room, in Omi’s bed, with Omi’s hands sliding up the back of his shirt and pressing hot palms against his back and oh, those _fingers_ , the way he fit his touch to his spine like that and reeled Taichi in, _yeeeees._

And then, and _then,_ when Omi kissed his neck and Taichi arched into it like he’d been shocked? That was good. That was _great_. More of that, please. 

Of course, when Taichi asked for it, Omi gave it to him. That still devastated him sometimes, that Taichi could _ask_ and Omi would _give_. A whisper of breath against his throat, Taichi’s chin tipped high to give Omi all the space he could. A slide of teeth on his skin, playing, never too hard, and Taichi didn’t know how many times he could plead with Omi for him to really bite him before Omi went through with it, what a thought —

It took Taichi a second to notice that Omi had paused entirely. Taichi’s breaths stuttered still.

“Huh?” Taichi prompted, kiss-drunk and stupid with it. The warmth stayed in his skin, in his stomach. Taichi almost shifted his hips higher to get some friction on himself, he ached so suddenly with the absence of it, the lack of Omi’s attention.

Frowning, Omi glanced over his shoulder to the clock. “What time is it?”

It was that exact moment that Taichi felt his victory slip right out of his greedy hold. He fell back against Omi’s bed with a cry. “ _Omi_ ,” he wailed, desperate.

Apologetic, Omi looked down at him. “I know,” he said sincerely. “But I have to prep for dinner. Everyone’s home tonight, and it's my turn. I’m sorry, Taichi.”

Taichi couldn’t even be mad, but he _could_ be whiny. “I was – you were – I could’ve –” Taichi groaned, hands over his face. 

“This one’s my fault. I lost track of time.”

But, Taichi noted, he didn’t feel Omi get out of bed yet. Taichi peeked through his fingers, and the fantastic reality of it was that Omi appeared as if he…really, really didn’t want to go. 

Well, it seemed only right that as a good boyfriend, it fell to Taichi to help convince him to follow his heart. Or whatever.

“You’ve got a little bit of time, right?” Taichi said, sitting up halfway again. He looked at Omi with his widest, most hopeful gaze, the one he knew melted even the most resilient of souls, even the _kind_ souls of responsible, hot, super cool guys like Omi. Who had nice hands. And talented fingers. And really, really soft lips. 

Omi hesitated. Sensing weakness, Taichi struck – he touched Omi’s shoulder and murmured, “Just a little bit of time. We can be quick.”

They could most definitely be quick. They had proved it on other occasions, of which Taichi was proud and similarly embarrassed to think about…not because of how quick _they’d_ been, but because of how quick _he’d_ been.

Squeezing Omi’s shoulder, Taichi leaned closer and, putting on his best coy act, added, “Please?” 

Omi’s expression was a cocktail of things – surprise and puzzlement and like Taichi had said something funny, and then, just as quickly, like Taichi had convinced him, which was absolutely what Taichi honed in on, not the flash of amusement. No.

“Quick, then,” Omi said, his voice going low like it always did before _things_. Taichi’s chest fluttered with it. Omi patted his lap. “If you really want to.”

“Oh, I _want_ to.” Like he could ever not want anything and everything to do with Omi.

Taichi popped upwards from his miserable position, put one knee on the bed next to Omi and then the other, straddling over his lap with plenty of space left between them. He gave up the whole space thing pretty much instantly upon seeing the smirk on Omi’s face, and then…how blown his pupils were, and the little flush of red crawling up from under his shirt.

Yeah. No space needed. Taichi dropped entirely into his lap and licked his lips. The little thrill that danced under his skin at the idea of Omi ignoring his responsibilities to make time for _him_ , the very _hint_ of the concept that Omi might even skip making dinner because Taichi just really, really voiced wanting him, and oh, wow, he never meant to come off that _needy_ , but if this was what it got him— 

Taichi kissed Omi first, because it seemed the right thing to do, and it wasn’t as if he ever minded kissing him. Omi teased his lips apart with his tongue and Taichi quickened for it, leaning into Omi and trusting Omi to hold him. He did, of course; Omi kept his hands securely on Taichi’s waist as Taichi chased his mouth, as Taichi licked against his teeth until Omi laughed gently into the kiss.

While Taichi’s eyelids fluttered and he slid his tongue along Omi’s, he could feel Omi’s thumbs rubbing against the shape of his hips, underneath his shirt layers, down through the vee of his abdomen, playing under the hem of his pants. Taichi gasped and Omi capitalized on it, pressing back in to capture his lips again while he carefully undid the button of Taichi’s pants.

Taichi was already well past aroused, the warmth that shuddered down his spine only serving to deepen the desire. He bit Omi’s lip – got a surprised little hum out of it, which went _straight_ to his dick – and one of Omi’s big hands settled on Taichi’s ass to pull him in so they were flush to one another.

“Yeah,” Taichi breathed, senseless with the twitchy want in every muscle of his body. Omi kissed the corner of his mouth with a small _mm_ , nosed at his cheek and brushed his lips against his jaw. Helpless, Taichi tilted his head and let him do _anything_ he wanted to him, anything in the whole, wide world, so long as he _didn’t stop touching him_.

And then, so easily, Omi was tugging his pants down far enough to free his dick from his underwear and Taichi could’ve wept.

Omi touched him with an assurance that had Taichi kneading at his broad shoulders, digging overeager fingers into the muscle there. Omi’s soft breaths stirred the flicks of hair next to his ear, tickling him, washing hot over his skin, and Taichi trembled at the feeling. He twitched his hips into Omi’s loose grip, _whined_ when the pad of Omi’s thumb rolled gently over his slit, barely-there for how the touch spread the sticky wetness beading at the tip.

Panting, Taichi dropped his head to Omi’s shoulder, tried to move his hips into his grip more insistently, but Omi caught his waist in his other hand. Taichi nipped his neck in complaint, but it only made Omi rumble a soft laugh (after a hiss of breath that Taichi honestly found _really,_ really magnetic). 

“Wait,” Taichi blurted when Omi let go of his length, but Omi only kissed his jaw. From here, Taichi only saw the latter half of the scene: a flash of Omi’s tongue swiping over his palm, the quick sound of Omi spitting into his hand, and, oh. 

“Sorry,” Omi said, but Taichi only buried his face against him all the more.

Finally, Omi really got his hand around Taichi and started stroking him, and now it was wet and slick just for this quick, makeshift moment. Taichi loved it all the same, breath catching against Omi’s neck, lips parted there, messy kisses trailed over all of Omi’s skin that he could reach. He hooked his arms beneath Omi’s so he could dig a hold into his back while Omi’s hand worked him, and that was… 

It… 

“S’good,” Taichi gasped, his eyes squeezed shut.

The pressure low in his stomach was nearly bursting, his knees trembling where he put all his weight in the bed, fingers scrabbling at Omi’s vest. Sweat gathered at his nape; even without moving at all, Omi’s touch was setting him ablaze, and Taichi’s small sounds were shorter and shorter as his pleasure built.

Omi twisted his wrist at the apex of each stroke and Taichi cried out at it, until Omi’s hand on his hip moved to his hair, easing Taichi’s face into the crook of his neck more completely so Taichi could be free to make his sounds without concern of anyone overhearing, which was for the best. Taichi’s pleading rasps of _OmiOmiOmi_ went right against Omi’s warm skin, and soon he felt Omi’s grasp in his hair turn to a firmer hold. It wasn’t tight, but it was enough that Taichi could feel it like the approval it was. He grinned, fleeting and ruined, and planted an open-mouthed kiss below Omi’s ear.

Without Omi holding him back, Taichi was free to rock his hips into Omi’s fist, and so he did. Omi’s breath caught in his throat at it each time, and Taichi realized that when he moved his body against him he could feel Omi’s hardness too.

 _Fuck_.

Taichi blurted, “ _Omi_ ,” and Omi snatched his hand away from his hair, quick to catch Taichi’s mess spilling between them before it could get on either of their clothes. Taichi trembled through it, choking on his own noises, Omi’s right hand still moving up and down, up and down, all while Taichi’s nerves felt shocked and sensitive.

More than panting now, Taichi gripped Omi close – at least, until his touch got to be too much, and then Taichi squirmed away, gasping his laughter and begging, “Okay, okay, _enough_ , please Omi please,” and Omi carefully removed his hand without smearing anything anywhere it wasn’t supposed to be. 

“Better?” Omi asked him warmly, retrieving a tissue from the nightstand to wipe his hand off.

Sneaking a kiss against Omi’s smiling mouth, Taichi fell back against the bed, this time with his legs parted invitingly. “Mmhmm,” Taichi hummed, brain firing all too slowly, dazed and pleased and in no way in a hurry to stop. “Your turn.” 

Omi blinked, tossing the tissue away, then leaned down over him. “My turn?”

Taichi frowned up at him, making a grab for Omi’s sides. “Uh, haha, _yeah_? Your turn. After _that_ , it’s only right I pay you back.” 

Omi leaned down just to press his lips to Taichi’s brow, then his lips. He ran fingers through Taichi’s hair, making him shut his eyes, and then, impossibly, he replied, “Mm. No.” 

Taichi’s eyes shot open again. Omi had already straightened up, was fixing his clothes, was grimacing as he shifted his weight and checked his pants.

“What’s that, _no_?” Taichi said, sitting up entirely. His head spun, his ears rang, and he dropped right back down, far too blissed out to bother with being upright. 

“I have to make dinner,” Omi told him, just as apologetic as when he’d mentioned it earlier. “Er...wash my hands more thoroughly than usual, _then_ make dinner.” He dipped down one last time and kissed Taichi’s lips, fixed his pants for him, then stepped lightly away before Taichi’s lazy second attempt at a grab could drag him in for something more devious. “I’ll come get you when it’s ready. How’s that?” 

Gazing wantonly at him, Taichi sighed, lip pouting outwards. “You’re really gonna leave me here?”

“Sorry, Taichi.” Omi flashed a grin over his shoulder. “That won’t work on me twice.” 

The door shut behind him.

Taichi was going to have to get some new tricks.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll stop calling Taichi a bad dog when he stops being a bad dog


End file.
